


New Year's and St. Patrick's Day Special(or, New Year Resolutions and Other Events)

by SissolxJeffC4ever



Category: 19th Century CE RPFs
Genre: 1895!AU, Alfred and Robert are friends in this, Alfred is not a prick, Alfred supports Lionel/OC, Crack, Oscar/Alfred established relationship for most of the fic, Other, This is an AU where Alfred's father, This is what should have happened during St. Patrick's Day 1896, Weirdness, contains Alfred/Lionel/Robert BROMANCE, contains matchmaker!Constance Lloyd, had mixed feelings about the Oscar/Alfred pairing, instead of rivals, more tags to be added later, not triple slash!, pre-slash between Robert/OC, so does Oscar, the Marquisse, the infamous OWTs never happened
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SissolxJeffC4ever/pseuds/SissolxJeffC4ever
Summary: Several different vignettes depicting some of my favourite pairings during the late 19th Century. Modern!AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic takes place a year after the premiere of The Importance of Being Earnest, and more specifically, it’s a series of vignettes, or ficlets, that takes place after the end of December 1895.   
>  The Oscar Wilde Trials never happened, so that means our favourite same-sex couple are now engaged, with LGBT rights still in it’s pre-establishment era. 
> 
> A/N 2: As usual, Alfred is not self-centered in this, instead, he’s more caring and empathetic, while being fiercely loyal to friends and close ones. Robert and Lionel are each paired up with my two most popular OCs, so expect Oscar Wilde approved slash.   
>  Again, Constance and Oscar were never in a relationship, they’re only very close friends. Also, Constance supports Oscar’s love towards Alfred, because I couldn’t stop writing slash-fangirl!Constance. 
> 
> A/N 3: Sorry for all the Author’s Note(s), but I have to tell this last information. In this fic, everyone is based on their historical selves, instead of movie or book adapted selves; so enjoy!   
>  Disclaimer: Unfortunately Oscar, Constance, Alfred, Lionel, and Robert do not belong to me — they belong to their respective selves and history(I definitely wish they belonged to me though, then the OWTs will never happen, and Oscar and Alfred will meet way earlier so their relationship will be longer. And that Alfred and Robert would’ve been friends rather than rivals, with the latter paired up with Lionel)! I only own my OCs and that’s about it. 
> 
> Also, I understand this is extremely belated!

_PART 1: A Wilde New Year(or, When Alfred Has to Deal With Two New Years Day fanatics)_

 

“Ten…nine…eight…” Alfred “Bosie” Douglas was at Oscar Wilde’s apartment, watching TV as it was doing the most exciting countdown for the new year. 

 

  “…six…five…four…” as the countdown became more and more intense, Alfred shouted for Constance and Oscar to come and watch instead of hiding, in order to surprise him, since he already knew about their so-called surprise. 

  “…two…one! HAPPY NEW YEAR, UK!” hollered the anchor, broadcasting the whole New Year’s special, as the camera panned to Times Square, where a huge crowd was gathered to watch the countdown on a huge screen near the Big Ben, aka The Place Near the Parliament, with fireworks exploding outside, into a dozen of beautiful flower-shapes. 

 

  All of a sudden, the lights of Oscar’s apartment all flickered on, and out jumped Oscar and Constance. 

  “HAPPY 1896!” they shouted, beaming. 

  Alfred had to admit that those two did scare him a little, so that’s how come he gave a small yelp of surprise. 

  “Happy New Year, Alfred!” grinned Constance. She was wearing a beautiful red dress with sparkles on it, that kind of reminded Alfred of the dress he saw on Star Trek: Deep Space 9. 

 

  “You two are impossible,” he said fondly. Then smiled back and said, “happy New Year to you too.” 

  Oscar hugged him and Alfred hugged back, then Oscar said, “you two prepare a toast of the New Year, and I’m callin’ Robert and Lionel.” 

  Alfred pulled away. Really, Irish people are impossible, kind of like the Scottish blokes he met yesterday over at Oscar’s writing studio. 

 

  “’Salmost New Year’s, and we need a toast!” the woman, who was named Aliza Wilde, had exclaimed. 

  “Awesome!” Skysen McGivers, one of the American editors-in-chief, had agreed, and so had one of Oscar’s exes, Reginald Turner. 

 

  “Oh, c’mawn, it’ll be awesome!” said Constance, forcing Alfred to come back to the present. 

  “You’re reminding me of miss Aliza Wilde, Cons,” said Alfred, flopping onto the couch, before suddenly being ambushed by his over-enthusiastic Significant Other, _and_ said person’s matchmaker best friend. 

  “Ya _hafta_ enjoy it, Bosie, before it becomes too late,” smiled Oscar in a way that made shivers go down Alfred’s backbone. He always does that whenever he’s ready to seduce Alfred into complying. 

 

  All of a sudden, the home phone rang and startled Alfred’s friends back to reality. 

  “I got it!” Alfred took that opportunity and grabbed the phone. “Yes? The Casa Wilde, pun intended?” 

  There was a laugh at the other end. “Casa Wilde, huh?” Lionel Johnson. “LUV IT!” 

  Alfred smiled, then hated himself for it, because no matter what, Lionel Johnson always had enough enthusiasm and optimism to make you smile, and Alfred both loved and hated him for it. “Happy New year to you too, Lee,” he said. “Hey, if you and Dennis want to come over, you’re welcome to, because Oscar and Constance are high as kites right now.” 

  “Alfred!” cried said persons in unison, “what the heck?” 

  Alfred ignored them. “Ah, I know what you mean,” said Lionel from the other end, “didn’t Oliver warn you? Or his twin Willie?” 

  “Nope,” Alfred felt hands on his legs and he kicked them away, with Constance giggling like a preschooler and Oscar yelping, “WHAT WAS _THAT_ FOR???” 

  Alfred cupped the phone and turned to glare at him. “That’s for public indecency, Mr. Wilde,” he said darkly, but couldn’t keep a grin from emerging. 

  Constance finally collapsed into laughing and had to cling onto Oscar for support. 

  “Wow, that’s _really_ Casa Wilde,” remarked Lionel, “it’s almost 1 and I’m sure glad I don’t have work tomorrow.” 

  “You mean very, _very_ wilde,” snarked Alfred back, “It’s already ‘tomorrow’, bro, sorry to break it to you. I’ll call you later, since I’ll still have to call Robert and Oliver. Bye!” 

  “Bye, and please please please enjoy their antics!” Lionel said, with an obvious smirk in his voice; and rolling his eyes, Alfred hung up. 

 

  By this time, Oscar and Constance were having trouble controlling their laughing and that’s how come they were both sprawled on the couch, gasping for breath. 

  “Oooooh, myyyy god I…can’t breath…” gasped Constance, collapsing into laughing again, also causing Oscar to crack up as well; until both were clutching their stomachs with Alfred wondering what kind of drug were they high on. 

  “That was _epic_ , Bosie: ‘it’s already tomorrow, sorry to break it to you, bro’…” Oscar panted. 

  Alfred shook his head. So much for a relaxing New Year. 

 

OOOOOOO 

 

  Robert Ross answered the phone after three rings, just as enthusiastically as Lionel had called. 

 

  “Hey Alfred!” he cried, with someone laughing just as hard as Oscar and Constance in the background, “it’s New Year’s Day! Happy New Year!” 

  “Heya, and yes, happy new year to you too.” said Alfred back at him, smiling again. “You know what, Lionel just called me and he was ecstatic.” 

  “I know too well, that’s just who he is,” said Robert; “also, aren’t you coming over? Please do because.” 

  “I knooooow,” grinned Alfred, looking over his shoulder at Oscar and Constance, whom cracked up all over again after freezing for two seconds. “I’m wondering whether those two — my companions, that is — took any drugs before coming to give me a _very belated_ ,” here, he shot Oscar a warning glare, with said person ignoring it, “New Year’s greeting.” 

 

  After talking with Robert for some minutes, Alfred was half-drained, with his companions still on high energy. It really was an interesting start to the new year. 

 

O.O.O.O.O 

 

 

End ficlet 

 

 

_A/N 4: Wow, Oscar and Constance, so excited aren’t we? Please don’t stay up too late, and I understand about the excitement one feels as the time edges closer and closer to 12 o’clock on the night of December 31st._


	2. PART 2: Conspiracies(or, Reginald the Matchmaker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matchmaker!Reginald Turner, enough said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, this takes place only some minutes before the events in Sick Day 2.0(or, When Alfred Gets to Give Orders). Alfred’s best friend Reginald Turner was, unbeknownst to the former and his SO, playing matchmaker when he, Reginald that is, made Alfred take care of Oscar after the latter unfortunately fell ill.

  

Alfred was awake, but he wasn’t that keen on throwing the covers off himself and jumping up to start the day though, because something in his intuitive mind said that something was amiss. With his eyes closed, he could hear sounds coming from one room away, on the second floor of Oscar Wilde’s 277.8 square meters villa of an apartment, which was a floor which all the bedrooms were, ironically enough, at. 

 

  All of a sudden, there were sounds coming from one room away — Oscar’s room, which was adjacent to Alfred’s. Smirking to himself, Alfred decided to maybe prank his and Oscar’s mutual best friend(or best _bro_ , as Lionel Johnson may put it), Reginald Turner, today, to pretend that he, Alfred that is, is still asleep. 

 

  “…great, he should know,” Reggie was saying. 

  OK, obviously Oscar is awake. And Alfred hated the fact that you could hear almost anything from the thin walls. 

  “…I will,” and the voices faded. 

 

  Sighing in relief, Alfred tried to calm down but somehow warning bells were ringing in his ears that something happened and Reginald wouldn’t be the one to deal with it. 

 

  All of a sudden, Alfred’s door opened and someone came in. 

  “Pssst, Alfred?” Great. It was Reginald. 

  Alfred suddenly felt really cold, as if he just got plunged into ice water when Reggie spoke again. 

  “I’m afraid Oscar’s not feeling well and he’s been asking for you.” 

 

  Alfred pried open one eye and groaned internally. There were pros and cons of being Oscar Wilde’s Significant Other, of course. The pros were that you and him can be as close as possible, sometimes sneakily sleeping together(A/N: Don’t tell Alfred’s father), getting to read his stories way before it gets published, and also swapping them and chatting about them almost non-stop; and the best part is that you could be as sarcastic as you’d like or want. The cons were way too many to count, and him being H.P.Lovecraft delicate is just illogical! (A/N: Throughout his life, HPL was frequently unwell. But still, that didn’t stop him from writing awesome fantastical stuff ^^)

 

  “Tell him to stop being a Lovecraft impersonator and man up,” he mumbled, shuffling onto his side. “HPL being unwell I can understand, but someone like Oscar, no way, just NO.” (A/N: Yes, there is definitely H.P.Lovecraft-fan!Alfred as well as Arthur-Miller-fan!Alfred.) 

  Reginald laughed. “Awww, you don’t mean that, Bosie, of course you don’t.” he said after he recovered, “he asked for you, though.” 

  Here, Alfred really groaned in exasperation. Yes, he loved being in Oscar’s attention, but at seven in the morning? Hell no! 

 

  Getting sluggishly out of bed and putting on a dressing gown, Alfred went grudgingly towards Oscar’s room, still feeling stoned from sleeping so late because of reading a really, _really_ good Lovecraft story all the way til it was literally 2:30 AM. 

  Opening the door, Alfred yawned and snapped, “oh puh-lease, man up! Just quit your H.P.Lovecraft impersonation for _once_!” 

 

  He went up to Oscar, who was still curled up, and glared at said person. 

  “Gawd, just stop being a dramatist for once and give us a break from it!” Alfred continued his rant until Oscar collapsed into violent coughs did Alfred finally become slightly concerned. 

  “’Ts cold,” Oscar murmured, and Alfred gently brushed the wavy hair away when their skins touched. 

  “OMG, Oscar, you’re really burning up.” said Alfred, “when one is burning up they do not cover themselves up in blankets — they try cooling down.” 

 

  Suddenly becoming way more enthusiastic, Alfred grinned, “sorry to break it to you but you’re really ill today, so I guess I’ll be taking care of you.” 

  Oscar propped up on his elbows and looked hard at him, hating the fact that his Significant Other was correct, and said SO grinned bigger. 

 

  “Today, it’s Douglas MD, OK?” he said happily and Oscar groaned internally. (A/N: Sorry, but I couldn’t resist inserting a House MD reference) 

  “Please, Bosie, can ya fetch me a glass of water?” the latter asked softly, collapsing back onto the bed. 

  “Sure thing,” Alfred beamed, “also, I guess I’d better get my morning coffee as well. Great, orders taken: two glasses of water, one for you, one for me, with an extra mug of Blue Mountain for me!” 

  “Bosie…” 

  “OK, OK, on my way there and here!” and with that, Alfred shimmered out of Oscar’s room and down the kitchen to fetch whatever his menu consisted of. 

 

O.O.O.O.O 

 

 End ficlet 2 

 

  _A/N: I know it’s short, but if you want to read the full version, it’s by my friend_ Ravenevermore _. This is simply a prequel to that ficlet._

 _Also, I’m using Oscar and Alfred’s historical selves to write this short prequel. According to_ Ravenevermore _, he based the characters on their 1997 movie selves, so things may be different._

 

_A/N 2: This is what should have happened when Oscar Wilde fell ill when he and Alfred were having a romantic week of being together! But unfortunately, Alfred became a total prick and abandoned his boyfriend instead of playing Douglas MD, and forced his and Oscar’s mutual friend Reggie Turner and Oscar’s ex-boyfriend Robert “Robbie” Ross to care for him — Oscar, that is._


	3. PART 3: The Oscar Wilde/Alfred “Bosie” Douglas Affair(or, Lord Queensberry…Matchmaker?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat's out of the bag, Lord Queensberry discovers the fact that Alfred and Oscar are having an affair! This will definitely not end well...it will, because I say so!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a ficlet that was edited from JC14’s fic of the same name, with less explicit details. The prompt was to write about what happens if Alfred’s father had mixed emotions about the whole Oscar Wilde/Alfred Douglas affair. This is entirely fiction so if you have no idea about Alfred’s father the marquess, please read about him, then come read this fic!

  

“Father, I’m so sorry, I swear!” cried Alfred desperately. 

 

  After his retching fit and he had cleaned up, the marquess looked at him hard. 

  “How long?” 

  “Just…only for four months!” 

  “Wrong!” the marquess glared at Alfred, and said back firmly. 

  “What?” Alfred couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The affair between him and the infamous writer Oscar Wilde was only known between him and said writer, as well as a few of their mutually close friends. 

 

  “You’ve been seeing each other for, like, 3 years now! And four months!” Lord Queensberry cried, “and it was for all to see! You thought I wouldn’t’ve noticed? You thought the Law firms wouldn’t’ve noticed?” 

 

  Alfred felt awful. He was really a horrible heir to the aristocratic family of his, to fall for a know-it-all and middle-class writer, after being only a fan. 

 

  “Please, father, I’m ending it! I’m ending it, today! Immediately!” he cried desperately. 

 

  But how could he? Being with Oscar had made him feel more alive than he did with anyone, and even though Alfred loved Lionel like a sibling, he’d never felt as alive as he did with Oscar when he was with him, Lionel, that is. 

 

  “No you’re not!” the Lord Queensberry snapped. “You’re not putting an end to the affair!” 

  “ _What_?” Alfred was dumbstruck. “Please, father, how…?” 

  “You want to keep this affair secret, away from the Law firm? I’m allowing you and Oscar to keep seeing each other! And I’m definitely in my right mind, Alfred!” the marquess said back. “I’m needing to speak to the both of you! Here! Tonight!” 

  There was no arguing with the marquess especially when he was in this mood. 

 

OOOOOOO 

 

  That evening, Alfred was extremely troubled about what his father had said that same day, but apparently Oscar wasn’t even disturbed as they had a round table talk about the affair. 

  “This is _just_ like one of your short stories, isn’t it, _Mr._ Wilde?!” asked the marquess firmly. He’s had them in his hands now, and it’s _his_ game that the so-called “genius” of a writer and his love interest was playing! They were destined to lose, just as expected. 

 

  “Father, please…” began Alfred, but Oscar gently shushed him.  

  “Oscar, I know that you’ve got kinks for all young flower males, but what about Robert Ross?” the Marquess continued his interrogation. 

 

  “He knows of this!” Oscar finally said back, feeling exasperated already. 

  Alfred was dumbstruck, again. “What?!” 

  “ _Excuse_ me?” 

  “He knows of this, me being with Bosie here.” 

 

  Here, both the Lord Queensbury and Alfred couldn’t believe what they were hearing. 

  “I _told_ him that I was seeing Alfred here, and I have his agreement!” 

  Now that was truly surprising. 

 

  In fact, for Alfred, it was just too difficult. Whenever he’s with Oscar, Alfred always felt safe and content, but could obviously feel that the marquess is watching. And whenever he’s with the marquess, he always felt left out, and sometimes even unloved. 

  “You and I are in this together, my dear boy,” Oscar said softly in that comforting Irish accent, that Alfred couldn’t help feeling a wave of want and desire, despite the obvious age difference. 

 

  As soon as this exchange happened, Lord Queensberry’s eyes darted from Oscar to Alfred, and back again. It can’t be just mere attraction. Yes, Alfred is good-looking and all that, but there’s definitely something more. But what? 

 

  “Can you please not do that to Alfred?” the marquess began, but then said, “fine, be all intimate to Alfred!” 

  Both Alfred and Oscar looked up, mesmerized. “But wouldn’t you…” began the latter, but the Marquess interrupted. 

 

  “You wouldn’t care, would you? I’m _giving_ you permission to be intimate! I have to see what this is all about!” 

  Only Alfred and Oscar were too glad to comply. 

 

O.O.O.O.O 

 

End ficlet 3 

 

  _A/N: If you’ve read the original, you may find the vocabulary edited and many scenes cut. For me, the original is too explicit to be rewritten here, and I’m never comfortable with sexual scenes, with historical persons or my own characters._


	4. PART 4: Love Changes Everything(or, Over-enthusiasm)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matchmaker!Oscar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is an edited version of the original one, which I deleted. This may be based on another of my favorite pairings, with Oscar playing matchmaker. Thank me later.

  

“You’re obsessed, just admit it.” Oscar Wilde and Hans Andersen were having coffee and Irish cuisine in Ayrton’s when the latter accidentally revealed the fact that he totally fell in love with an editor with the name of Edvard Collin, back in Denmark. Instead of recoiling in disgust, Oscar actually smirked in a too knowing way, and Hans was reminded of the fact that said person was an LGBT Founder. “When you’re in love, you’re in love. There’s nothing you can do about it, because love is something entirely psychological.” 

 

  It was already nearing the end of February, and down in London Square, aka Times Square according to Oscar’s fellow Aesthetes, tourists were swarming two stone pillars, as the sun shone on a tablet in the middle. It was like the stones near an island off Ireland, and as expected, there were plenty of tourists swarming around the place. 

 

  “And what about the stones outside on the Square?” Hans tried to change the topic because of the building awkwardness. 

  “Interesting of you to notice,” said Oscar instead, “OK, listen to this: it’s actually better if I know about you and Edvard, because if it’s John or Reginald, they’d play matchmaker in an even more exposing way.” 

  Hans sighed. It seemed impossible, and don’t even mention improbable, for changing the topic if you’re chatting with Oscar Wilde of all people. 

  “But I…” 

  Oscar waved a hand. “Get over it, Hans; you love him, and what if he loves you back?” he asked, getting excited, “you know how much he and you are strengthening your friendship, eh?” 

 

  Sighing again and looking out of the window without seeing how smug and self-pleased Oscar was, Hans couldn’t believe it. Tell Edvard? That was impossible! Telling Hans means that Edvard will be guaranteed to ask, “what about you an’ Pieter?” 

  Pieter Toksvig was a television game show host of the Danish version of QI, II, or, Interesting Ideas in English; and he and Hans had been quite intimate before Pieter blew it and went with Danish comedian Oscar Hansen. Hans never told Edvard about what Pieter did, so that’s how come the latter didn’t know why the former was so depressed. 

 

OOOOO 

 

  “So Hans Andersen has a crush, eh?” when Oscar went back home to his apartment later that evening, his current boyfriend, John Gray, and his editor best friend, Lionel Johnson, was there, already making themselves at home, as usual. John popped the question immediately as he noticed Oscar entering the doorway after the scratching sounds of the keyhole. “Din’t he used to have one on Charles Dickens, I reckon?” 

 

  Oscar put his fur overcoat on the clothes-hanger, which was already piled with enough overcoats, trench-coats, you name it and walked over to them. 

  “OK, tell me this, John, have you been hanging out with Reginald again?” 

  Lionel cracked up and John shoved him off the couch, with him still giggling. 

 

  “Not really, and yes, if you count today, when you and Hans were having a date!” John beamed, pulling Lionel up. “You have to say that it’s not even like him to not confess to non-friends about his own feelings.” 

  Oscar stared. “Him?” 

  “He meant Hans,” explained Lionel, taking a swig of liquid from his mug on the coffee table. “I’m telling you, if I tell my boyfriend Alfred Douglas about this, he’d be so on board.” (A/N: And yes, this is pre-slash between Oscar Wilde and Alfred “Bosie” Douglas! As well as established relationship between Lionel Johnson and the latter.) 

  Oscar rolled his eyes. It seemed that ever since Lionel got engaged, he never stopped talking about his significant other. And at the same time, Lionel and John were drinking coffee again. No wonder they were high as kites and changing subjects too quickly! 

 

  “Lionel and John, please tell the others that we may be meeting at the Cadogan tomorrow, I have to see this act out in front of me.” he suddenly said, standing up from the armchair again, “it’s obvious that Hans’ll stay at the Cadogan, and only there, could we see the true action commence.” 

  John and Lionel beamed at each other. Now that’s something to look forward to! 

 

OOOOO 

 

  The next day, Hans Andersen, Edvard Collin, and Pieter Toksvig were going downstairs of the Cadogan hotel to get breakfast when Edvard saw another group of people already there. 

 

  “Please can we ignore them?” Hans pleaded when he noticed Edvard’s eyes scanning said group. 

  Edvard rolled his eyes. “Whyever do you think we’re going to make conversation with that group?” he asked back, “you have to know that they’re that LGBT community the tabloids wouldn’t stop reporting about! As if they were the only ones in the world.” 

 

  They chose a table far from said group, and Pieter made Edvard go get them some food when he and Hans will talk about the topic about the LGBT clan. 

  “Edvard never liked them, especially their leader, Hans,” he said quietly when he made sure that Edvard really went to get food. “It’s actually illogical, because he’s a fan of Charles Dickens’s works and not Oscar Wilde’s.” 

  That was true enough, and so Edvard’s dislike branched out from what he heard in the tabloids, eh? 

  “Oscar Wilde and Charles Dickens are both great in their own ways, and Eds never understood that concept,” he continued, occasionally looking over at the group, who were in a conversation of their own, over coffee and pancakes. 

  “Edvard said that Oscar is envying the Brits, and that’s what all of Charles’s fans are saying in the tabloids.” Hans also looked over at the clan. 

  “Oscar Wilde literally has enough self-esteem that if he was a container, he could spill everything and the world will still not be able to hold it in, that self-proclaimed so-called ‘genius’ of an Irish native!” all of a sudden, without Hans and Pieter even noticing, Edvard got back from getting them food, and cutted in their conversation. “I mean, who the heck cares about aestheticism and sentimentalism when writing novels and/or short stories? He should know that sometimes sentimentality couldn’t be avoided and remember your short story about this match girl? He created an AU and —” 

  Finally, Pieter interrupted, “yes, thank you, Eds, for reminding us!” 

 

  Hans tried his best to ignore his best friends bickering about the Oscar Wilde vs Charles Dickens debate. He’s definitely heard about their not-really-existent rivalry, since both ignored each other in the most impossible smug, and don’t mention haughty, ways. 

 

  Meanwhile, Oscar and John were chatting until they heard Pieter and Edvard hollering at each other in Danish, which they could not understand at all. 

  “I can’t believe it, Hans likes _him_?” asked Reginald when all of them looked up. They looked away when Pieter mouthed, “sorry!” at them. “You wouldn’t believe it, people, that’s Edvard Collin, Hans’s editor for most of his short stories and travelogues. Also,” he lowered his voice so only Robert Ross and Lionel Johnson could hear him, “I’ve heard he’s a firm Charles Dickens supporter.” 

 

  Lionel just nodded. “We know, OK?” he asked, looking past Reginald and smirking at how close Edvard and Hans were sitting together, “look behind you, Reg, they’re really going at it!” 

  Here, both Reginald and Robert looked behind them and matching smirks spreaded on their faces. 

  “Now, all we need to do is bring them together!” they exclaimed, high-five-ing each other. 

  Oscar looked at John. “I told ya, din’t I?” 

 

O.O.O.O.O 

 

End ficlet 4 

 

  _A/N 2: I’m so, so,_ so _sorry for not updating this! Other stuff, especially Jonathan’s requirements of writing his_ Highway to Yonderland _fics have somehow been in the way._

 

_A/N 3: This will be the only matchmaker!Oscar Wilde fic, and Hans Andersen/Edvard Collin pre-slash fic. Because obviously Oscar has to take care of his own LGBT Community first, and prepare the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day celebration — spoilers!_

 

_A/N 4: Also, sorry for how cracked this is._


	5. PART 5: Lawson’s Creek Incidents(or, Mythologies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the first ficlets where the Oscar/Alfred pairing never happened. This is purely a satisfaction ficlet for my second OTP of Lionel Johnson/Alfred Douglas! 
> 
> Summary: Lionel reads Irish mythology, and it spirals out of control, as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This part happened because St. Patricks Day is approaching. It’s also AU where the Oscar Wilde/Alfred Douglas never happened, which satisfies my second OTP, Lionel Johnson/Alfred Douglas. But no worries, Al and Oscar here are friends! 
> 
> A/N 2: And yes, this ficlet is in the Oscar/Robert universe! 
> 
>  
> 
> A/N 3: This was written on 16th of March.

  

According to most of Lionel Johnson’s books on mythology, it was finally almost the middle of March, which means that it’s already March 12; which, in its own case, means that Oscar Wilde, aka Irish LGBT Community founder/poet/playwright/novelist/self-proclaimed “genius”/current boyfriend of Robert Ross, was supposed to tell everyone, which means said LGBT Community, some Irish mythology or folktales that usually spiral out of control and end up with the listeners telling urban legends. 

 

  As mentioned, Lionel was reading a book, inside Oscar’s study, of said person’s 279.8 square meters villa of an apartment, when his own boyfriend, or rather, fiancé, Alfred “Bosie” Douglas, entered said place — the study, that is. 

  “You have to review, isn’t it?” he asked, without even knocking on the door. 

  Lionel didn’t even look up. “Of course, otherwise how can I jab back at Oscar’s irritating witticisms?” he asked back, flipping the page. “Listen to _this_ , Bos! ‘According to Irish mythology, leprechauns, aka mini gnome-like men wearing green, will appear during St. Patricks Day, and if you’re lucky, they may give you presents!’” 

  Alfred turned away. Seems like Lionel will never read word for word from a book. 

 

  “Yes, Oscar mentioned about these creatures,” he answered, finally resisting the urge to face-palm at Lionel’s childishness, “they’re really, and I _do_ mean really, tricky. Ask them about their gold coins and they tell you that you’ll find it at the end of the rainbow, blah, blah, blah. I guess that’s why Irish people have such wonderful witticisms — in order to manipulate those creatures from young age, I presume?” 

  Here, both of them cracked up, thinking about Oscar’s recent barge with an editor, and said person’s ability to be sarcastic in any way. 

 

  Meanwhile, downstairs of Oscar’s apartment, Robert “Robbie” Ross and John Gray were decorating said apartment, also because of said event described above. 

  “I’m having these suspicions of Lionel actually researching about Irish mythology because he wanted to veer Oscar into another topic, which is commonly known as Urban Legends,” pausing from decorating a clover-shaped charms on most of the pegs, John remarked, looking up. 

  Robert jumped up. “I know!” he cried, “every single St. Patricks Day, when Oscar’s telling those mythologies to us and Constance, with said person actually being the co-host of ev’ry single party, Lionel is the one to always veer off to something else, and Alfred joins in. Afterwards, Oscar has trouble comin’ back to the topic!” 

  And that’s exactly how the pre-SPD started. 

 

  Irish mythology has its own quirks, according to Lionel, and immediately after Oscar finally wrapped up with his “endless” re-telling of how St. Patricks Day started, he beamed at everyone. 

  “…and even till this day, Brits have no idea!” he grinned, “it’s strange how almost only the Irish celebrate this holiday. And guess what else? Those little gnome-like creatures are actually fairies.” 

 

  There was an _oooooh_ from the audience and Oscar turned away, knowing what will happen next. 

  “No one’s sure whether they really exist or not, and have you heard about this story where these girls found fairies in their garden? That’s sooooooooo SPD!”  Lionel’s voice was rising before Oscar finally interrupted him. 

  “Can we please get back to the topic?” 

  “Nope!” Lionel beamed again. 

  What was possibly worse was that even Robert joined in. 

 

  “And d’you know that there’s rumors saying that Arthur Conan Doyle supports the fact that fairies and all sorts of mythological creatures actually exists?” 

  “As well as H.P.Lovecraft’s sea monsters!” 

  “No, HPL’s creatures are called the Great Old Ones!” Alfred. 

 

  That was when their conversation branched out into a thread about Lovecraftian monsters and how exactly did Howard Lovecraft get the inspiration from them. Oscar tried to get back to the topic, but couldn’t because of the Community’s over-enthusiasm for H.P.Lovecraft. 

 

  “…or the Elder Things,” remarked Lionel after a very brief pause, “you know what, I researched about Howard’s inspiration as well when reading Oscar’s books — apparently he, Howard that is, not Oscar — (obviously, because we’re talking about the **_Cthulhu Mythos_** , not…uh… _Dorian Gray_ ) suffered from nightmares when he was young, then wrote them into short stories. There was this Dream Cycle, which has the _Dunwich Horrors_ in it!” 

  Here, everyone applauded. 

  Oscar looked wide-eyed at that information. “You’ve been searching about H.P.Lovecraft _instead_?” 

 

  Everyone cracked up except for Lionel. “Yes, since both are mythology!” he beamed. 

  Robert and John grinned at Oscar. “OK, we’ve found your culprit,” said John, in the same enthusiastic way as Lionel, “obviously he needs help because.” 

  Oscar rolled his eyes. Seems like he really has to condition his ex-boyfriend even more on aesthetics, before Lionel’s over-enthusiasm overtakes everyone! 

 

OOOOO 

 

  Fastforward to the evening of March 16, it was, indeed, an extremely exciting evening for Alfred, John, Lionel, Robert, and Reginald’s Irish friends, and because of that fact, Oscar invited Constance over and they were in a conversation after curfew; only partners-in-crime Alfred and Lionel would take none of it. 

 

  Oscar and Constance were in Oscar’s study, speaking in rapid Gaelic, aka the Irish language, when they got company, unbeknownst to them. 

  “Unfortunately I can understand nothing,” grinned Lionel, always the optimist, “but still, I’m sure they’re just as enthusiastic about tomorrow as we are!” 

 

  Oscar and Constance’s voices were getting heated, as their voices were obviously rising, as well. Until freaking finally, Constance, breaking the Irish exterior, broke into English. 

  “Honestly, Oscar, I thought you know that Alfred wouldn’t be able to cook whatever goulash course we have back Home!” she was saying. It was only in that moment, there were perks of _über_ -thin walls — you could hear any conversation extremely clearly! “Also, since when, exactly, did you get interested in cuisine? I thought everything was done by Lionel?” 

  “Lionel does the research, Constance, and how else would Alfred understand without us being chaperones?” Oscar asked back; there was a rustle, and he continued, “if you let Lionel do everything along with Alfred and us, he’d be _way_ too enthusiastic. You know how he’s like! Also, don’t even remind me how inseparable they are.” 

  That’s when it kind of veered off into pre-arguement territory. 

 

  “Fair enough, Oscar.” said Constance with obvious bite, “if you’re having a crush on Alfred, I’m not surprised. But you have to sort out the activities we’re doing tomorrow, otherwise it’ll be completely messed up. And don;t complain to _me_ when that happens — it was _you_ who ignored my advice for making Lionel et al do the research!” 

  “Constance, should I remind you again that _that_ , was last year?” Oscar said right back; and Lionel and Alfred looked wide-eyed at each other. Great, anyone who doesn’t have as much witticism as Oscar would’ve veered off into argument territory. “I love Robert, and only him! Now if you’ll just excuse me, I’d better check whether Lionel and Alfred are asleep or not, since Lionel’d drank way too much Blue Mountain because o’ his fiancé’s current obsession.” 

  “Awesome,” snarked Constance, and that’s when Alfred and Lionel finally decided to run back to their separate rooms before the door swung open as both she and Oscar clomped out, with the latter heading straight for Lionel’s assigned room, which was adjacent to his own. 

 

o.o.o.o.o 

 

End Ficlet 5


	6. PART 6: St. Patrick’s Day(or, Luck o’ the Irish)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> St. Patricks Day with Oscar and the others. This was written on St. Patricks Day, ironically enough. And in the morning!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Top o’ the mornin’ to y’all! It’s finally St. Patricks Day today, and I’m finally almost finishing with this ficlet, just in time for the celebrations. So grab your favorite Irish cocktail and join in their celebrations, with Oscar being way too OOC. 
> 
> A/N 2: Also, yes, this is where theChaplinfangirl’s OC, Gerald Lauren, comes in! As well as that, everyone in this ficlet is based on their 1997 movie-selves! So you may or may not have already guessed who is Gerald modeled after. 
> 
> A/N 3: So sorry for all those a/n’s, but I have to tell you this. There is also a reader-insert separate fic for this ficlet! With you being the one to join in the festivities.

  

The next day, Alfred et al were woken up by shouting downstairs. Obviously Oscar Wilde and Constance Lloyd. Those Irish natives! 

  Finally crawling out of bed because of staying up way too late with Lionel, Alfred “Bosie” Douglas, who was still stoned from sleep, sleep-walked to Lionel Johnson’s room as the others were woken up just as _rudely_. 

 

  All of a sudden, Lionel’s door swung open, and an over-enthusiastic Lionel greeted Alfred, who was still half-asleep, with a crushing hug that woke up Alfred…almost. 

  “TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA TOO, BOS!” he shouted, swallowing said person into the most over-enthusiastic hugs of all over-enthusiastic hugs Lionel would ever give. 

  “Right, moooooornin’,” Alfred yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “one question, Lee, did you even sleep last night?” 

 

  Lionel finally let go of Alfred and beamed. “Sure did, but do you know that Oscar was being all the way intimate with Gerald last night?” Here, his eyes turned predatory. 

  Alfred cringed. “OK, cool, Lionel,” he said back immediately, “also, too much info, bro!” 

  And before Lionel could react, he went out of the room and went downstairs, in order to make himself his much needed mug of Blue Mountain coffee before he crashed in Lionel’s room and spreading unnecessary rumors. 

 

  It was quite a sight downstairs of Oscar’s 279.8 square meters apartment, which looked like something out of a P.G.Wodehouse novel. Oscar was wearing green from head to toe, with a (finally!) pink carnation brooch. What made Alfred completely awake even before his sip of Blue Mountain was Oscar’s lime-green top hat, which actually had a clover sticking out of the helm. 

  Oscar smirked his usual smug way at him. “Top o’ the mornin’, Bos.” 

 

  Alfred rolled his eyes at the Irish native. It wasn’t a surprise to see Oscar Wilde of all people dressed like Fred Astaire in lime green, since said person was the second Fred Astaire, the only thing missing was a monocle, and Alfred wasn’t about to remind him since it was Robert’s fault, making Oscar parade his _ultra_ -flamboyant fashion sense in the US. 

  “You need help, bro,” he said, after taking a much needed swig of his Blue Mountain. “Wait till Gerald sees you like this.” 

 

  Gerald Lauren was a counsellor from the US, and according to Lionel, Robert, and John, he and Oscar had been best friends and ex-boyfriends for about 26+ years, before Gerald went back to the US and got engaged with someone named Keanu Dusset, who was a fellow counsellor. (A/N: Yes, because if you’ve read _theChaplinfangirl_ ’s ficlet of _Reading Gaol Chronicles(or, In The Soup)_ , you’ll know who she modeled Keanu and Gerald after.) 

 

  Right on cue, there was a noise from a room upstairs, and there was excited talking. Obviously Gerald and Lionel. 

 

  “Oh, well, you don’t have to worry, because John and Reginald have a date today and I don’t want to bother them,” said Oscar, as if he and Alfred were chatting about the weather. No wonder when he and Gerald were a couple, they went to see this P.G.Wodehouse drama called _Jeeves and Wooster_ and the former had been altogether nonchalant as heck. 

 

  Meanwhile, when Lionel, Gerald, and Robert finally arrived at the end of the stairs, Gerald nearly did a double take. 

  “Whatever the heck is Oscar even wearing?” he whispered, spying the chatting duo. 

  Lionel smirked. “Right, Gerry — Oscar, never change, never change,” he giggled and got the attention of the talking duo. 

 

  Breakfast was a very interesting time, since Irish traditional classic music was blaring from Oscar’s laptop, and Alfred and Lionel were imitating some Irish mythological creatures and whatnot. 

 

  “I’m glad that they’re cool with this celebration and all,” said Constance to Oscar, quietly, as she watched Alfred and Lionel. 

  They were young, and is still getting used to life outside of their own mansions(in Bosie’s case) and/or their best friend or boyfriend’s apartment(in Lionel’s case, because he and Gerald had been living together when the latter rented this apartment around Huntington Street), but at the same time, no one could match Lionel’s positive views, that were either too Wodehousian, or too impossible. 

 

  “You know, I’m actually thinking about inviting them to our own date, Alfred, Lionel, Gerald, and me,” Oscar replied, “maybe to Ayrton’s, since it is rumored that Alfred is obsessed with that place.” 

  That got Alfred and Lionel’s attention, as expected. 

 

  “We get to go to Ayrton’s?!” hollered the latter, “thanks too much, Os! That’s just brilliant!” 

  Alfred smirked. “What’s also brilliant, is that you and Gerald finally got to catch up with each other,” he said, smiling as well, “I’m pretty sure we’ll have a swell time.” 

  Oscar just stared at him. Wherever Bosie learned that from, he decided that he didn’t want to know. 

 

OOOOO 

 

  That noon, they really did go to Ayrton’s, and right at that place, Alfred ordered his usual cup of Irish tea. 

 

  “Why here?” as soon as they finished taking their orders and the waiter left, Lionel inquired. 

  Again, Alfred wanted to face-palm his brains out and Oscar really did face-palm at that question. 

  “Because it’s _St. Patricks Day_ , Lee!” the former said, full of exasperation, “did you ask that on purpose or did you really not know the reason?” 

  “I know it’s SPD, but exactly why here? And I do know this is an Irish restaurant!” 

 

  Alfred sighed again. “D’you really not know?” 

  “Yes!” 

  Alfred sneaked a look at Oscar, who was, fortunately, chatting up a storm with Constance and Gerald, and wasn’t paying any attention to them. 

  “OK, it has something to do with Oscar’s past relationships.” he answered, lowering his voice and trying to not catch attention to himself. (A/N: I honestly have no idea where that came from! Maybe it was hinted by _theChaplinfangirl_? Blame her if you don’t understand this part.) 

 

  That caught Lionel completely 180 degrees off guard. 

  “SO THE TABLOIDS WERE SAYIN’ THE TRUTH?” he shouted out loud. 

 

  It was also fortunate that there were so much noise in the restaurant, hardly anyone heard him. That was true enough, since it was lunch hour and St. Patricks Day at the same time! 

 

  “Yes, and I think it has something to do with Gerald and him,” agreed Alfred, after looking at Oscar again and making sure that he was still distracted. It was easy to distract Oscar, just mention anything aesthetic and he’ll comply. “I’m not sure how much of this is true, but according to the tabloids, it was here that Oscar found out about Keanu and Gerald’s relationship. Apparently Gerald was hurt that Oscar had the nerve to date a female — Florence Belcombe — that he and the latter broke up temporarily; and then, he  started having a relationship with Dusset.” 

  Lionel definitely remembered that event. “But what about the drama show they watched together, the P.G.Wodehouse play?” 

  Alfred took a swig of his Irish tea. “That happened _after_ they got back together, Lee! That was after their temporary break-up, which, fortunately, wasn’t so serious because afterwards, Florence Belcombe got engaged with Bram Stoker. Well, according to the tabloids anyway. Still, no hard feelings between Florence and Oscar, and apparently Florence was the one who urged Robert Ross to make a move because he had this crush on Oscar for god knows how long. And that’s how everything started.” (A/N: Yes, and this is my own head-canon on the Robert Ross/Oscar Wilde pairing.) 

 

  Glancing around at Oscar and Gerald getting too close for comfort, Lionel smirked at Alfred. 

  “Seems like they’re getting back to the spirit, Bos.” 

  Alfred smiled as well. That was exactly what St. Patricks Day was about, wasn’t it, by spreading the love again? 

 

o.o.o.o.o 

 

End ficlet 6 

 

  _A/N 4: Yay, finally finished with this ficlet on time. This ficlet is also written as a reader insert, as mentioned already, so if you want to know what’ll happen if the reader joins in, go read that!_

 

_A/N 5: And yes, as you must’ve already guessed, this part is the title ficlet!_


End file.
